Bad Timing
by purpleness
Summary: He only wanted to help. * Winn, Will/Finn *


_**Title: **__Bad Timing  
_**_Pairing: _**_Will / Finn  
_**_Rating: _**_PG  
_**_Warnings: _**_Nothing  
_**_Summery: _**_He only wanted to help.  
_**_Note: _**_From the anonymous prompt meme, "First Kiss". So un-beta'd it hurts~ If you'd like you do it, please do, and send me it at ._

Was what he had done wrong? Sure. There were several things off about it. The fact that for one – they were in school. School, for heaven's sake! This was most certainty not the idea place for this. Secondly, they were being observed by the entire rest of the New Directions. Thirdly, it was illegal, no matter how right it felt. How horribly,_ terribly _right it felt.

_Don't Stop Believin' _had been reverberating about the theatre's walls only minutes before. Their eyes were locked – if only for a second – before he continued to scan across the line. He had to stand out. He had to get that look of approval again. Therefore, he forced more bounce into his step, more passion into his eyes, and stared straight down into the seats, focusing with all his might on the words tearing through him. The words meant nothing to him personally – but he had to make it look like they did. They needed to be more 'real'.

The song ended with Tina's last line and they all halted at once, dropping their heads so their chins brushed the top of their chests, as they're rehearsed. William Schuester stood, and approached the stage. The six performers relaxed their shoulders and came to meet him at the corner of the stage, awaiting their critique with bated breath. "That was good, guys. But it could be better. I'm thinking, Mercedes and Tina should switch parts, and here's why…" And Finn zoned out.

He knew anything that was to be said about him would be said later – alone – when the temptation was at it's worst. Being the only member in Mr. Schue's Spanish class, anything that needed to be told to him about – well, anything – was scribbled in the margin of his homework, noted on a Post-it inside the back cover of his workbook, or hinted at in the lesson, as Mr. S was a very busy man and couldn't afford to address every issue in person. They took a break and four members hopped off the stage – Kurt assisted Archie down the ramp – and headed to their bags to get their food.

"Mr. Schuester," Rachel spoke up, ending the peaceful eating-silence, "Aren't you going to eat anything?" Being as concerned as she way with everything, Rachel took noticed when their teacher abstained from eating whatever it was that he'd brought in a plastic bag, and was instead skimming through the lines of one of lyrics like there was some deeper meaning to them. There really wasn't. Finn had heard this song so many times, he would know, if _anyone_ did.

The man glanced over to his students, now looking attentively at him, concern dashed upon their faces. He smiled briefly. "No, take it." He picked up the plastic bag and held it out to Rachel, who almost flinched and looked utterly appalled at this gesture.

"Mr. Schuester! I couldn't take your food! And, and besides. You have to eat." She pushed the bag back towards him and Mr. Schuester blinked a few times. He set the bag down by his feet and went back to his reading, obviously not intending to eat at all. Rachel shot a look at Finn – trusting her him out of all of them the most – and gestured to the forlorn looking instructor.

Finn nodded briskly. _This could be my chance! _He stood, crossed the isle towards their teacher and sat beside him. "Hey Mr. S.," He said, reading the lyrics over his shoulder, like it really interested him. Which it didn't. He could sing the lyrics backwards if you asked him to. "What's up?"

"Finn," Was all Mr. Schuester said, only confirming he heard what he'd said. Finn frowned. This was not right. Something must be bothering him. He leaned a bit farther over himself, trying to get the older man's attention away from those God forsaken lyrics. Nothing. What was so interesting about Journey, anyway? After a few minutes of silence, frustration was bubbling up in the teen's belly and he grumbled something like a curse, then tore the sheet from Mr. Schuester's hands. The blonde teacher stared up at Finn in shock. Even Finn couldn't believe what he'd done, being usually so mellow. "Finn? What is it?"

Finn shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "You've been acting weird like, all day, Mr. Schue. What's wrong?" True compassion leaked into his words, and he leaned over the armrest that separated them. Mr. Schuester looked like he was about to recoil, but gave into Finn's curiosity after a minute of silence.

"It's Terri. She… she lied about being pregnant." He breathed, lowering his head. Finn's eyes opened a bit wider. He was surprised that the older man would tell him – his student – about something like that, so personal. Perhaps he really trusted him? That thought warmed his heart. He'd never really had a man in his life, a father figure, like Mr. Schuester. That's what this feeling was, right? He'd never known it before.

"That's horrible Mr. Schue." He placed a hand on Mr. Schuester's now fisted one, and tried to look as sympathetic as he possibly could with having no idea what kind of feelings his teacher was battling with. "I'm sorry." Mr. Schuester looked up at him and Finn looked back, and he suddenly knew this wasn't a fatherly feeling he had for his teacher. At least, he'd never heard about anyone feeling this way about their father.

Forcing a half-smile, his teacher nodded. "Thank you Finn." He said, turning his now relaxed hand over and squeezed Finn's opened one. "I needed that," They sat like that for another minute, their hands clasped, staring at each other like they'd never seen another person before in their lives, and they both moved at once. Mr. Schuester turned his head and began to release his hand, as if to get up, and Finn leant in, pressing his lips to what wasn't quite his target, Mr. Schue's cheek. There was another second of silence before he pulled away and stood all in one fluid motion, leapt from his seat and dashed across the auditorium, past the other Glee club members, and out the doors.

He now sits beneath the bleachers, legs pressed against his chest, chin resting atop them. He is ignoring the text messages and calls he is receiving from the phone in his pocket, staring out at the legs of cheerleaders and football players that passed, people he was once categorized with. All before he fell in love with William Schuester.


End file.
